Emma Zeth - The Lucky Prepper - A Gardener's Story of Surviving a Pandemic

‘No,’ I said, wracking my brains to think what might have happened to mum and Vik; if the door had been open, then maybe they had left earlier, when the smashed glass happened. But then they could be anywhere, they could be hiding out in one of the neighbour’s houses or they could be trying to get to my place. ‘I live near Watford.’ I looked up and smiled with as much warmth as I could muster; ‘I’m Zoe.’

I picked up a piece of paper from the pile on the side of the table. It looked like mum had been making notes to herself. Then looked round for a pen; a pot on the counter yielded a black sharpie. I jotted down my name and phone number, and put the names Nadia and Vik underneath. ‘If you hear anything can you call me?’ I asked.

The taller women frowned, but the shorter picked up the paper and put it in her bag, ‘I’m Amy, and this is my sister Tina,’ she said, ‘I hope you find your family.’ I smiled and stood up, walked to the back door, opened it and went into the garden.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t care about the women. I couldn’t stop them taking the food, I definitely couldn’t imagine fighting them… not like the youth I had hit in the park. This was different; they weren’t a threat to me. But with the glass door broken, I couldn’t really secure the house; I could lock all the doors, but anyone could easily get into the dining room from the conservatory. I couldn’t really hide stuff either; there was so much of it, all the trinkets and ornaments, presents we had made for mum and dad. I looked around, overwhelmed; even the garden prompted memories; Dad, Vik and I playing cricket, accidentally lobbing the ball over the fence yet again… Mum showing me her cherries last year. I couldn’t bear to think of people traipsing through, destroying all our stuff.

I walked round the patio, through the broken door into the conservatory, and then into the dining room. Scattered on the surfaces amongst other bric-a-brac, were photo frames. Mechanically, I picked up one of dad, opened the back, removed the photo and put the frame back. Then I went round and did the same for all the others.

I put the photos in the travel pouch I wore around my waist. I had made up a tiny survival kit, something we had discussed on the forums, just a few basic items in a travel pouch that belted around my waist. I wore it always when away from home. Inside I had a lighter, a safety pin, a coil of tooth floss, and a multitool in the shape of a credit card, one of the ones that contain a tiny knife, scissors, tweezers, file and pen. I also had a strip of hay fever tablets and a refresher bar for energy. I packed the photos away behind the energy bar and zipped the pouch closed. It was bulkier than before but not noticeably so.

I heard Amy and Tina leaving but ignored them. I went upstairs into Vik’s room. It looked the same as always. I went into mum’s. There was a picture of her with some friends, she was laughing and looked happy. I took the picture out of its frame and then looked round; as my eyes flittered from surface to cluttered surface, I absently noticed that things looked barer than usual.

I sat on the bed working out what was missing; my eyes drifted back to the dressing table… her hairbrush and hand cream and a couple of other things were gone. I opened the wardrobe; it looked slightly less crowded than usual. I couldn’t really tell if anything particular was missing, but I was certain there was; it looked like they might have left on purpose, with time to pack up some stuff. I ran back downstairs and checked the top of the coat wardrobe; sure enough, mum’s old black hat was gone. I was so relieved. They couldn’t have been in that much trouble if mum had time to grab her hat.

I was still hungry, I went downstairs expecting the kitchen to be stripped bare, but when I looked in the cupboard, the old metal tins of rice and lentils was still there. Too heavy to take I supposed. I filled a pan with water and put them on to boil. The lentils should have been soaked, strictly speaking, but I didn’t care; it was food.

When the lentil and rice mix was ready, I spooned some into a bowl, ate, and tried to decide whether to go home. It was getting on to evening and although I was locked inside a house, I felt deeply insecure. I didn’t know who was around, whether there were still youths in the park, or even if the rumours about wild dogs were true. I should have asked Amy loads more things. I had let an opportunity slip.

I’d had a good seven hours sleep on the sofa; I was wide-awake, and was soon feeling bored. I sat in the kitchen doing old crosswords and reading mums notes. Eventually I let myself back into the living room for another nap to kill time. I set my phone to quietly wake me at 3am and dozed until I fell properly asleep.

At 3am I woke feeling groggy. I drank some water, ate some of the cold leftover rice and lentils then grabbed the bike from the garden and locked the kitchen and living room doors ready to leave.

I eased open the front door and listened carefully. It was silent. The lights were out, and the street was dark. I wheeled the bike up the road. Last time I had freewheeled down the hill, but this time I needed to go slowly. I crossed the road and walked the bike slowly down the other side, looking across at where I thought the car was. The night was warm and dry, the sky cloudless. As I stared across into the dark, I suddenly saw a flash of light a couple doors down from where I was looking. I stared into the dark and saw the flash again. I quickly moved to the concealing shelter of a hedge, ducking down out of sight.

There was definitely activity over the road. Lights flashed on and off and I could hear muffled talking. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but my attention had been on the house a few doors further up. I couldn’t see my car; it didn’t help that it was small and black; not my preferred colour but I had bought it second hand for its reliability not its’ looks.

I waited a while, then moved a couple of doors down into a driveway with a car and a hedge; much better concealment than just a hedge alone. The people opposite didn’t seem to be doing much, I couldn’t work out if they were waiting for someone or just hanging around. The lights I had seen were the screens of their mobile phones and there seemed to be a fair bit of banter going on, selfies being taken, and images being smirked over. It didn’t look like it would stop any time soon. There did seem to be something in the driveway, but it was hard to see what.

I moved further down the road and propped the bike against a van. Then I worked my way back up the hill. I wanted to check the car, but the only way I was going to be able to get that close was if there was a diversion. The best thing I could think of was a fire. It hadn’t rained for a while and the vegetation was dry. If I could get something burning at the top of the road, I could wait until they had moved away and have a quick peek without them noticing.

I made my way back up to the junction and slipped round the corner so I was out of sight. The fences here were constructed from wooden boards; dry and flammable. I felt along the fence with my fingers until I found a loose board, and tried to prise it off quietly. My fingertips gripped under the wood, but even tugging as hard as I could, it wouldn’t budge; the boards were nailed on too firmly.

I stood, picking a splinter out of my finger… maybe at mum’s house I could find something to burn. I let myself back in the house and looked in the cupboard behind the kitchen door. Sure enough, tucked away behind the odd bits and pieces, was a bottle that felt the right size and shape. I opened it in the dark and took a sniff; methylated spirits- perfect. On the way out, I picked up a couple of magazines from beside the phone. I couldn’t see properly, but they felt like old phone books.